07.15 At The Kitchen Table

It's hard to believe that it is already the middle of July, which, in my mind, means that summer is exactly half over. I don't care what the official calendar says, summer is June-July-August, and halfway through July means halfway through summer.
That means that farmers market season is also nearly half over. And here I sit, not having blogged nearly enough. You would never know by reading this blog that I really HAVE been faithfully shopping locally, learning about food, meeting the farmers, cooking, and eating. And eating and eating and eating.

So, tonight I pulled out the computer and sat down at the kitchen table, determined to make amends, That's when What's-His-Name walks into the kitchen and asks, "What cha' doin'?"

"Blogging."

"About what?"

I look even more determined. "Eggplant."

"Huh." He is standing very still now. "Well, I like eggplant."

"Me, too."

"Well, okay. That's nice. Have fun."

NOW I've completely forgotten what I was going to say about eggplant, because all I can really think is that I like eggplant. Period. I never knew I liked eggplant, because it wasn't something we ate at my house growing up. (What's-His-Name wasn't raised eating it either. The other evening, while we were competing over a platter of fried eggplant, we decided that we really MUST confront our mothers about this issue.) I had eaten eggplant parmesan at an Italian restaurant once long ago, and it must have been really bad, because I recall the eggplant having a rubbery texture and a taste too close to liver for comfort. It wasn't until last summer when our New York Italian son-in-law fixed HIS eggplant parmesan for us that I realized how mistaken I'd been. Eggplant tastes NOTHING like liver and the texture is soft and fluffy -- when cooked right it tastes like a deep fried cloud. (Cirrus-ly...)

Still, I don't have much to say about eggplant.

Except that I like it. Eggplant is good.

Amen.